


Grief Talking

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Cancer Arc, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-06
Updated: 2005-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: An ill-timed confession.





	Grief Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

Grief Talking 

* * *

You never thought something like this would happen, did you? Who would've thought that it would not be the cold, masked men of the consortium, not some monster that was hidden from the eyes of man for ages, not a psychopath on a rampage, not even the alien apocalypse you felt in your repeatedly kicked gut that was coming, but a common disease that never seemed fatal and dangerous until now, might be the one that would end her life. 

You were furious. You still are. You felt cheated. 

In your strange mind, it seemed better if she was going to die because of your work. At least she died looking for the truth. For you, that was the only acceptable reason for death. Because you would rather die doing the same. 

So you didn't accept it and you told her so. She won't die. Not if you can help it. If people knew how much you believed that, they would shake their heads sadly and offer comfort to her. Denial was a well-known sickness that infected the people closest to the ones who had the actual physical illness. The ones who were hit hard were the ones who were oblivious. 

You were so blind that you couldn't see past your nose. 

And you kept your eyes closed, ignoring the blatant evidence of her sickness. It helped when she ignored it too. Sort of. She didn't want to be treated like an invalid and you didn't. That's why she worked as long as she did. Both of you, not daring to acknowledge her numbered days. 

For you, nothing changed. Her revelation never happened and there was no sickness. 

Monsters were still chased, aliens were still waiting to be found, and the syndicate was still manipulating the world. And she worked beside you, every step of the way that it was so easy to forget what was very wrong. 

You didn't see her frame becoming gaunt, her white skin turning ashen, the measured breathing she took after an exhausting chase, not venturing out of her home after a tiring case. She told you she was fine and you accepted it, if not believed her. 

It was like a flu that can be taken cared of with a couple of 500 mg pills branded Resistance and Disbelief. Dosage is once a day. Twice, if you see her falter in any way while working. If her nose bled, you cut the day short and go home. 

You stuck with what worked. And so far, that routine did. 

Until her mother asked you to stay with her as a favor. 

You weren't supposed to hear the argument they had behind her slightly ajar hospital door. She was making it quite clear that she hadn't wanted you to sub for her mother. 

Of course that stung, making you almost turn around and try to think of a believable emergency excuse to tell her mother for not showing up. But then you caught the next string of rather weak reasons why she did not need to bother you. If her mother was going to take off for a couple of hours, she can leave her unsupervised. It wasn't like she had the strength to leave the room. 

It wasn't just you. It could be anybody who would be willing to take care of her. It just happened to be you at the moment. Still, being a part of 'anybody' hurt. You were just anybody. 

If her last words hadn't been bitterly delivered and she was slowly dying in front of your eyes, what she said would have made you smile any other day. But her meaning was harsh to your ears and you winced instead. You slowly walked towards the row of chairs at the hallway and slumped pitifully on one directly facing her door. 

When her mother finally emerged, she was surprised to see you there, immediately mindful if you heard the discussion inside. You smiled innocently as you stood up and she visibly relaxed. She needed a break badly and she was not up for an uncomfortable explanation for whatever you might have heard. 

She smiled her thanks and told him her daughter was up. You nodded and watched her until she was out of sight. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. 

You caught her ineffectively trying to get herself comfortable, while her tense body shifted this way and that. She stopped at her wriggling when she saw you. You smiled as you greeted which she didn't return, but merely nodded. 

No, it was not going to be easy. 

You weren't as ready as you thought you would be so you made an excuse to go to the cafeteria. She didn't want anything so you were able to duck out of there in a hurry. 

Several minutes later, you came back and found her asleep. You hesitated by the door for a second, and then went in as quietly as you could. 

She did not wake even when you dared to sit on the bed near her elbow. It was the first time you were this close to her since she started her treatments. When you visited, you either sat on the chair or just stood. 

You didn't know why you sat so near now, when every evidence of her illness was horrifyingly more real up close. Not even your personal prescription can dull the pain. You just stared, letting reality peel away your denial, torturously skinning yourself layer by layer. 

She finally stirred eventhough you were so still and hardly breathed. You watched as her eyes blinked open, her head jerking slightly as she tried to find her bearings. Her eyes darted to your hovering presence and you knew she was startled by your closeness. She caught you watching and you didn't look away for once. 

It wasn't like you but you kept watching. And she tried to hide the fact that she was unnerved by you, sitting up and fluffing her pillow, making a conscious effort to ignore your close proximity and careful observation. Maybe she's hoping that you'd take the hint and look away. Even for just a second. 

You conceded and looked down at your hands, letting her raise back her walls up until she was more comfortable. 

"How are you doing?" you asked, still finding your hands interesting. 

You already knew what she was going to say but you didn't expect her hand to cover yours. You looked up to her face and found that she was waiting for you to look at her before she answered. 

"I'm doing fine." she asked. What were the odds she'd say anything else? 

Then her eyes softened and tried to smile. It wasn't so forced and the effort clenched your heart. You knew she was trying to ease your worry and you couldn't help admire the way she'd still think of your well being when she was the one fighting for her life. 

"How are _you_ doing?" she asked as she weakly squeezed your hand. You covered it with your other hand before answering. 

"Despite the cafeteria not having iced tea, I'm okay Scully." You congratulated yourself because her smile deepened, her lips thinning as it widened slightly. 

You smiled in return, noting to yourself it wasn't forced too. At first. 

But your eyebrows started to meet at a sad peak and the corners of your mouth battled to go down. Before you ducked your head, you saw her expression become sympathetic as she watched your own walls crashing down before her eyes. 

You were both shocked at your breakdown. You wanted to fight the emotion, maybe try to turn it to anger if you couldn't just stop it. But fear outweighed everything else. Blinding phobia of separation, loss and solitude. 

God, you don't want to be left alone again. 

You felt her gather you close and you sank into her embrace, seeking shelter from the traumatic collapse of your conviction that she could beat her sickness. Or that _you_ can beat it. 

You felt yourself being rocked, small hands stroking the hair at the back of your head and the length of your spine. You shook hard with every breath you took, trying to restrain your cries. She held you tight, trying to control your shaking, trying in vain to soothe the wound you knew neither she nor the God she prayed to could heal. 

"I love you." 

Both of you froze at the words, shocking you both for the second time. It just came out and you wished she didn't hear it. But she became momentarily rigid and you knew there was no way you could take it back. 

She pulled away slowly to see your face. For the longest second, she just watched you and did not say anything. Then you felt her hand against your jaw and her thumb stroking your cheek. 

"I love you too." And then she gave you a smile of gratitude, mutual feelings and understanding. 

Only she misunderstood. 

And you didn't know which drove the rusted nail harder square in your chest, that she meant it in a different way or that she didn't know you meant it in a different way. 

And since you knew you said the right thing at exactly the wrong time, you left it at that. 

You barely remembered walking out of her room, walking down the hall, leaving the building, and getting inside your car. As soon as you slammed the door shut, the world closed in so fast and you clutched at the steering wheel, trying to breathe evenly. 

Because you knew you were a coward. You were not brave enough to correct her. 

That your words were not just grief talking. 

* * *

END Grief Talking 

At least this wasn't as heavy as "Believe." Well...that's what I think. Would love to know your thoughts on this. 

Thank you for letting me share a piece of my X-Files insanity. :)

#### If you enjoyed this story, please feed the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title: **Grief Talking**  
Author: ScamBeliever  
Details: 9k  ·  G  ·  Standalone  ·  06/06/05  ·   Email/Website      
Gossamer Category(Keywords): Vignette   [UST, Angst]     
Characters: M/S     
Pairings: Mulder/Scully UST   
SPOILERS: Cancer arc   
SUMMARY: An ill-timed confession. 


End file.
